


It Sounds Different When You Say It

by Jae



Category: Panic At The Disco
Genre: Bandom - Freeform, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-04-02
Updated: 2007-04-02
Packaged: 2017-10-06 11:17:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,180
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/53110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jae/pseuds/Jae
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Four times Spencer Smith said Yes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It Sounds Different When You Say It

_rehearsal._

"Five times," Brendon said. "In three weeks -- shit, Spencer, you know this can't --"

"I know," Spencer said sharply. Next to him on the bed Ryan crossed his legs and hunched his shoulders, like maybe if he made himself small enough he'd disappear from the conversation. "I know, I'll talk to him. He can't keep doing this."

"We can't keep doing this," Brendon said. Spencer thought he could have taken it better if Brendon had sounded pissed, or even a little pleased that things had finally come to this. But all Brendon sounded was sad, and serious, looking soberly at Spencer like a doctor giving the final bad news, kneeling in front of Spencer like a teacher explaining to a toddler what all the grown-ups had long ago figured out. "If he hadn't turned up -- an hour late -- but if he hadn't, we would've been screwed and nothing you could have said or done would have mattered."

"He's freaking out," Spencer said. "He's just freaking out a little -- okay, a lot, but I can talk to him, okay, I can take care of it."

"He's gonna fuck us up. He's gonna fuck something up for real, something you can't fix, and it's gonna fuck us up, for real, and we could have something, we're going to have something and he's not gonna mean to do it, I know that, I do, and he's gonna feel fucking terrible after he does it but he's gonna take it away from us and we'll never get it back. People don't get, they don't get second chances, not with something like this and he's going to waste it and if it was just his life I'd be fucking sad, all right, I'd be so sad for him but it's not. The thing is it's all of us and he's going to ruin it for all of us and there's nothing you're going to be able to do then, Spencer, there's not a damn thing you'll be able to do when he ruins us."

Ryan shot a look at Spencer and then looked away, staring straight ahead of him. Straight ahead of him were half the mirror and half the wall, and straight in front of Spencer were the other half of the mirror and the wall on the other side, and straight in front of both of them was their reflection, Spencer sitting tall and stiff and Ryan next to him, closed in on himself. He was tilted toward Spencer, a little off balance and so near he was almost leaning on him. Spencer hadn't noticed until he saw it in the mirror. It felt like Ryan was really far away.

"I know he's fucking up," Spencer said. In the mirror Ryan looked down at the floor where Brendon sat. Ryan was twisting the hem of his shirt around his fingers, around and around until it was pulled tight, and then he let go and the twists slowly fell away. Then he started twisting again.

"If it was just that," Brendon said, and in the mirror Ryan's hands froze, the fabric tangled taut around his fingers. "Maybe you could fix that, I don't know, but it's not just that, that's the thing. He's not -- he doesn't want it, what we want, and he doesn't even know what it is we want that he doesn't, and I don't know how -- I don't know. Sometimes I think maybe he's fucking up to make it easy for us, you know, that maybe he'll be a little relieved deep down once he doesn't have to, once we ... But I know, I know it's not like that," Brendon said. Spencer saw him swallow hard. "I know it's just me who'll be a little relieved."

"People aren't all the same," Spencer said. "Sometimes people take longer to get to the same place, you know? But they get there eventually. Maybe, maybe we just need to ..." From the floor Brendon looked at him sympathetically, and in the mirror Ryan deliberately averted his eyes, but neither of them finished his sentence for him. Spencer couldn't finish it either.

There was only one thing he could think of that they needed to do.

It wasn't like he hadn't told himself all of this before. He'd told himself he was done, two days ago after he'd spent a solid forty minutes getting shouted at by a promoter, smiling sickly sweet through "contractual obligation" and "unprofessional" and "a hundred, hell, a thousand more where they found you." He'd stood there and taken it, because someone had to and that someone wasn't there and he'd told himself that he was done. He'd just never been able to figure out what he was supposed to do, now that he was done.

That wasn't true. He knew what he was supposed to do. He even wanted to do it.

He just couldn't bring himself to say it out loud.

"How much longer do you think we have to risk it," Brendon said, "before we can make ourselves do what we know we have to do?"

Brendon's voice was still low, soothing, and if it sounded a little rehearsed Spencer couldn't blame him one bit. He respected him, even, for having the balls to say what no one else would. He didn't like him any better for it, maybe, but that wasn't really fair and besides, Spencer didn't like him any worse for it, either.

"I know," Spencer said. "I know, I know, it's just --"

He couldn't finish that sentence, either. None of them could. They sat there not looking at each other and then finally Brendon said,

"He's out of control, he's making us out of control," and all of a sudden Spencer knew it wasn't Brendon who was saying it. He looked up quickly into the mirror and looked at Ryan looking back at him.

Up till then Brendon's argument, and that was what it was, Spencer knew it now, a closing argument like in a TV show and Spencer was the jury, up till then Brendon's argument had sounded just like Brendon, smooth and convincing and something you wanted to listen to, something you wanted to listen to so much that you were halfway inside whatever he was saying before you thought about what he really meant. It had sounded just like Brendon, and Spencer wasn't really surprised. It was only Ryan's fucking job, putting words in Brendon's mouth.

That last part, though, that was nothing but Ryan.

To say that Ryan Ross liked to keep things under control was like saying he liked to breathe. There were things you liked, things that made you comfortable and happy and helped you feel better on a hard day, and then there were things that made you start to sweat as soon as you even thought about losing them. They were all of them living in probably the most chaotic situation possible that wasn't, like, a catastrophe, they were on a fucking concert tour, and only someone who didn't know Ryan at all would think about how weird it was that someone who liked to keep things under control had ended up there.

Spencer knew Ryan hadn't ended up there by accident.

The thing that put Ryan on tour was the same thing that made him drive with the windows down on the highway, no matter how hot and dusty it was. With the windows up and the air conditioning on it was hardly like driving at all, Ryan always said, the ride so self-contained and climate-controlled you hardly knew you were even going anywhere. Ryan liked the windows down so the harsh sounds of the highway drowned out the radio and the exhaust from the trucks half-choked him and the wind rushed through so fast it felt like a threat. He liked to drive so fast that pebbles kicked up and hit the windshield hard, so hard he'd flinch and the car would swerve and then he'd put both hands on the wheel and the car would straighten out and he'd relax back into his seat. When he drove like that Spencer felt almost scared, a little scared and a little excited and completely aware that they were hurtling through space and time, violently, desperately and almost, almost out of control. Almost out of control but never quite crossing that line, and only someone who didn't know Ryan at all would think there was ever a danger that he'd go flying across. He ran right up to it and stopped short, every time, to reassure himself that he could, that he always would.

"When we lose it," Brendon said, "we won't ever get it back."

Spencer had told himself that he was done two days ago, but that was just when he admitted it to himself. The truth was that he had decided he was done more than a month back, while he'd stood at the edge of the stage and watched Ryan rehearse how he was spontaneously going to jump on Brendon's back that night. It looked the same every time to Spencer, but then again Spencer wouldn't have needed to rehearse. Ryan frowned every time and then lined himself up a little differently, and Brendon shrugged tolerantly and stood there drinking out of a can and letting Ryan bounce off him. Spencer wasn't sure, watching Brendon, if he knew what Ryan was doing. He wasn't sure if anybody else knew what Ryan was doing, including Ryan. Ryan frowned again and retraced his steps backwards, looking down at his feet like he was counting, and Spencer thought about sitting in Ryan's kitchen when they were kids, watching Ryan's dad make them sandwiches, his hands precise and deliberate and shaking just a little as he sliced the bread perfectly evenly.

"Makes you wonder," Brent had said almost in Spencer's ear, "if he's been worried about inheriting the wrong thing." Spencer turned around and looked at him. Of course somebody else would know what Ryan was doing, Spencer wasn't the only one who'd ever been in that kitchen but only someone who didn't know Ryan at all would ever say that out loud, easily, out where anybody could hear and it was only the four of them but still, anybody could hear. Out on stage Ryan fell into Brendon again, hard enough that Brendon staggered three steps, Red Bull spilling out of his nose while he swore cheerfully. Ryan laughed and then he frowned again, stepping back, and Brendon took three steps forward so he was standing exactly where he had been. He looked quickly over at Ryan, like he was checking to make sure it was all right, and then he went back to casually drinking until Ryan smacked into him again. Brent said, "How long you think it's gonna be till he's done?" His voice was slurred a little the way it got sometimes, the words leaking carelessly out of his mouth, and Spencer looked over at him, leaning carelessly against the wall, and thought, _You're done_.

Now Ryan shifted toward Spencer a little and said, "I think -- I think it's gotta be this way." Spencer looked at him, hunched over his knees, head bent in toward Spencer and Brendon like he thought someone might hear, even though it was only the three of them. He looked at Spencer, suddenly, not in the mirror but face to face and said, low like he thought someone might hear, "I know -- I know why you'd let this happen, if you -- I know whose fault it is."

Brendon made a soft noise of protest but no one paid attention. This was how he could do it, Spencer thought. Brendon wanted it and Ryan needed it and he was outvoted, even though they wouldn't vote, even though they wouldn't do it if he said no, he wouldn't have to say yes either. They'd do it and he'd just be along for the ride.

"It can't just be yours," Spencer said. Ryan thought that over for a minute and then nodded. Only someone who didn't know Spencer at all would ever think he was just along for the ride.

"So we're gonna -- we're gonna," Brendon said, and Ryan put his hand over his mouth and nodded again. They both looked at Spencer and he knew all he needed to do was nod.

Spencer said, "Yes."

  


_opening night._

Brendon had been talking for a good three minutes before Spencer started listening to what he was saying. People were always coming up to him and talking, not just the band but the techs and the promoters and what seemed like random strangers who'd somehow snuck into the venue. Anytime someone had a problem they came and talked to Spencer, and if he'd listened to even half of what they said he would have lost his mind months ago. Mostly he just let them talk themselves out and then they said, "Thanks, you're right, that's exactly what I'll do," and he sent them off with a smile and hoped that they wouldn't turn up later that night expecting him to help hide a body.

It wasn't like Spencer never listened to anybody. He just chose his moments. It was easy with Ryan, because whenever he was going to say something Spencer would want to listen to he'd just shut up and sit down near him and wait until Spencer figured it out and turned to him and said, "What?" Jon was pretty easy, too, because if he wanted Spencer to listen he'd just knock him on the shoulder and say, "Hey, listen to me." And actually Brendon was pretty easy himself because he'd just talk himself out and if that was all he needed he'd walk away and if he really wanted Spencer to listen he'd just start the loop back up again. It worked out better that way, really, because Brendon was always better the second time around.

Brendon was still talking and it was starting to sound a little familiar so Spencer started listening. Once he started he kind of wished he hadn't. He stood up but Brendon just stood up too, still talking at him and finally Spencer said,

"What are you trying to say?" and that was another mistake because it just started Brendon all over again. Spencer was listening from the beginning this time and he got the gist pretty quickly. He kind of wished he hadn't. Brendon seemed ready to go around for a third time, and a fourth, and it was almost sheer self-defense that made Spencer finally stop him.

"It sounds like you're, like, asking me for Ryan's hand," Spencer said.

"Haven't you been listening at all?" Brendon said, letting out a loud breath full of irritation in what Spencer was very afraid was a lead-up to starting all over again.

From the doorway Ryan said, "I don't know if it's my hand exactly," and Spencer and Brendon looked over at him.

After a minute Brendon said, "I'll take it, though," and Ryan laughed a little and so did Brendon and Spencer stood there awkwardly and watched them laugh at each other.

"Seriously," Brendon said after another minute. "Seriously, Spence, it's not gonna change anything, and --"

"I told you to let me," Ryan said. This time his eyes were on Spencer. "But you couldn't just wait and let me."

"You were doing such an awesome job --"

"I was," Ryan said. He was looking at Spencer like he was telling him something and Spencer stepped a little closer, like if he could only see Ryan better he could figure out what it was, and Ryan was still looking at him and he just needed a minute, he could almost see it and then Brendon said,

"Like I said, it's not gonna change anything, we'll make sure of that, we don't want, we don't want ..." and finally, finally he ran out of words. He looked at Ryan but Ryan wasn't helping.

"Sure," Spencer said finally because there was a silence and something needed to fill it. Last night he'd had a nightmare, which he still did sometimes because he still got carsick sometimes and it was worse when they were sleeping on the bus because instead of throwing up he just had terrible, vivid nightmares that woke him up choking and tangled in the sheets. He'd gotten up and gone to Ryan's bunk, because Ryan was the only one who knew about the dreams and Ryan never minded being woken up in the middle of the night. He'd throw things at your head in the morning, but in the middle of the night he just rolled over sleepily and said, "Spence?" and pulled his legs up so Spencer could curl up at the foot of the bunk. They weren't all that big, either of them, so there was room. Sometimes they'd talk a little bit, about nothing, really, about things they were going to do when the tour ended, about whether or not a funny story Jon had told earlier was true. Sometimes Ryan would show him something he'd been writing, but mostly they just lay there on opposite ends of the mattress and watched for the other one to fall back asleep.

Last night he'd gone to Ryan's bunk and Ryan wasn't there and it wasn't like the bus was all that big. There weren't all that many places Ryan could have been but Spencer didn't go looking. Instead he climbed into Ryan's bunk and pulled the covers up. He smacked the pillow a few times until there was a small hollow right next to his head, and each time he hit it there was a loud dull thump but he didn't wake anybody up. You would have thought he'd get to sleep easily because he had room to stretch out, but he just lay there listening to the dark for a while. It was weird how loud a quiet night could be, how it seemed like every corner leaked tiny creaks and hums when you were awake late at night and alone and had time to listen.

When he woke up Ryan was hanging over him, both hands on top of the bunk and leaning in so Spencer was looking at his stomach where his shirt was riding up. "Hey," Spencer said, and he started to roll out but Ryan didn't move and there was nowhere Spencer could go while Ryan was blocking his way. Ryan just stood there looking at him for a while before he said,

"It's still early. Shift over," and he pushed irritably at Spencer's shoulder until Spencer made room. He lay on his side next to Spencer and he must have just woken up because his skin was really warm. He was so close to Spencer that it was almost uncomfortable but Spencer didn't have much room to go anywhere. He kicked the blanket down toward the bottom of the bunk but it didn't really make any difference.

It really was early, because the sunlight was still weak and pale, strained almost sickly through the bus windows, and Ryan looked pale in it, yawning and blinking at Spencer. He didn't say anything, just lay there looking at Spencer and Spencer looked back. He could see the white tag of Ryan's shirt fluttering at his neck as he breathed, and he reached out like he was going to tuck it back in but once his hand was on Ryan's throat he realized that Ryan's shirt was on inside out. Ryan's skin was warm under his fingers and the tag was scratchy under his palm and Spencer couldn't think of anything to say. Finally he said, "Sorry," and sat up a little so he could climb over Ryan and into his own bunk where he belonged.

He thought Ryan would say, "That's okay," or "Nothing to be sorry for," because Spencer didn't even know what there was to be sorry for and he was the one who'd said it, but Ryan didn't say anything. He just lay there looking at Spencer until Spencer finally started to climb over him. Then Ryan put his hand on Spencer's hip and pushed him back and said, crankily, "Don't be stupid. Why is everybody in the fucking world stupid but me?"

"Your life is a nightmare," Spencer said, and Ryan laughed suddenly, louder than he should have so early, and Spencer laughed back at him.

When they were done laughing they were still lying there, Ryan's hand pressing firmly on Spencer's hip. Ryan was quiet for a long time, his eyes half-closed and his hand still against Spencer. Spencer was just starting to wonder if he'd fallen asleep when Ryan said, "Aren't you going to ask me where I was?"

Spencer pulled back but there was nowhere to go with the wall right behind him, and Ryan pushed forward, his face close to Spencer's, his mouth a little open and his eyes now open wide and watching. Spencer shook his head, hard, and Ryan pressed his lips together and Spencer said, "I'm sorry," and this time he knew why he was saying it.

"It's okay," Ryan said, and his hand rubbed lightly against Spencer's hip, slipping just beneath the waistband of his sweatpants. "Just go to sleep," Ryan said soothingly, and Spencer had, closing his eyes and letting go of the nightmare and the night before and the day ahead, everything except the easy brush of Ryan's hand, warm against his skin.

That was last night and this morning and now, now Brendon was looking at him earnestly and Spencer said, "Sure, you're right, I'm sure nothing will ever change."

Ryan slid down the wall and sat on the floor, almost at Spencer's feet, but he didn't say anything. Brendon shot a look at Ryan and then said, "You don't have to say it like that."

"Like what?" Spencer said, and Brendon looked down at Ryan and Spencer said, "No, you know what? You're right, I don't have to say it like that, let's just -- let's just, it's fine, okay?"

"Are you sure?" Brendon said, and Spencer pushed a hand through his hair because that was the thing about Brendon. He could never just leave well enough alone, he always made you say it and so Spencer did.

"What if I'm not?"

"Aren't you?" Brendon said. He looked down at Ryan again, but Ryan wasn't going to help. Spencer could have told him that. "Do you want us to stop? Because, because if you do, then we'll ..." His voice trailed off and he looked down at Ryan again and then over at Spencer and neither of them were going to help.

"You'll what?" Spencer said, and he wouldn't have, he wouldn't have pushed it but Brendon was making him say it and so he did. "What will you do if I say yes? Are you gonna stop?"

"Well," Brendon said. Spencer almost laughed but he looked down right then and Ryan looked up and he didn't feel much like laughing anymore. "I mean, we just want you to be -- I mean, everybody, we want everybody to be -- we could figure something out, I mean, so everybody's -- you don't have to --"

Spencer wondered how long Brendon would keep talking before he gave it up. He was used to listening to Brendon circle around and around but eventually even Brendon would have to admit that it didn't matter how many words he tried to cover it up with, he'd never really been asking Spencer a question. It wasn't a question if it didn't matter what the answer was, but maybe Brendon thought if he just kept putting enough words between them, eventually Spencer would just give in so he wouldn't have to listen anymore. Spencer had long practice, though, in listening to other people talk themselves into things and so he was ready to wait him out.

In the end it wasn't either of them, though, who gave in. Ryan stood up suddenly and walked over to Brendon and put his hand over his mouth. Brendon stopped and for a second Spencer thought there was going to be some wrestling or something, something adorable and he could slip out then but Brendon just looked over at Ryan, his mouth slipping against Ryan's hand as his head turned.

"No," Ryan said. "If you say yes, we won't stop."

"I know," Spencer said, "I know, and you don't -- you don't have to, I was just, I don't know, I was being --"

"We won't stop," Ryan said. He took his hand away from Brendon's mouth but Brendon didn't start talking again. He didn't look over at Ryan either but just stood there, next to him, both of them watching Spencer. It was like they were trying to tell him something and he took a step closer, like if he could just see Ryan better he'd be able to figure it out. Ryan wasn't helping him, though. He just kept standing there, the way he always did, like Spencer should be able to guess, like Spencer should just know, without anybody saying anything at all Spencer should just know.

"We'd start something new, though," Brendon said, because that was the thing about Brendon. He'd just say it, right out loud. "If you wanted, if you said -- we would."

Ryan nodded, once, even before Brendon looked back at him. He nodded, once, and Spencer knew and maybe he should have known without anybody saying anything at all, maybe he should have and maybe Ryan did but Spencer was going to say it, anyway. He was going to say it.

Spencer said, "Yes."

  


_breakdown._

Spencer didn't look up when the door opened and then shut behind him. He didn't look over, either, when Jon stood next to him, arms on the rail of the balcony, and rocked back and forth a little like he was waiting for Spencer to ask him something. Finally Jon said, "Brendon's gonna be okay, you know."

"Yeah, I know," Spencer said. "Singers always come out of these things okay."

Jon made a weird noise with his tongue against the roof of his mouth, almost a cluck, the kind of sound your grandmother would make when you'd said something you shouldn't have. Then he laughed, except it wasn't a real laugh because there was hardly any sound in it, just a quick rhythmic intake of breath that shook his shoulders. It wasn't really a laugh at all but there was no other word for what it was either. "Yeah," he said. For the first time in all of this he sounded pissed. "Yeah, I didn't really mean it like that."

"Oh," Spencer said. He stood there for a while, still looking out. Jon didn't say anything but he didn't go back inside either. He just stood there rocking like there was something he was still waiting for Spencer to say, like there was something that Spencer should say and Jon was giving him the chance to say it.

"You'll be all right, too," Spencer said suddenly. He thought that maybe nobody had said that to Jon yet. It wasn't like Jon needed anybody to tell him, probably, but sometimes it was nice to have somebody say it out loud even if you didn't need it. It wasn't like it wasn't true. "There's, like, fifty people who want you in this city alone. You'll be okay."

"Yeah," Jon said. "Yeah, I didn't --" He took a deep breath. "Listen, you'll be okay too. Lots of people will want you, too, so you don't have to --"

Spencer turned and looked at him. "I'm not just going to join some band," he said, and Jon did that weird laugh thing again but Spencer couldn't help it. It was different, it was different for him and he wasn't going to pretend like it wasn't.

"Oh," Jon said.

"It's different for me," Spencer said. "You know that, no offense but it is. It's different."

"Right," Jon said. He tried to smile but it came out all shaky, one side of his mouth twisting like he'd forgotten how to do it. Then he took a deep breath and smiled again, and this time it stuck. "Oh, what, you're too good for another band but I'm just, like, some band slut? Just offer me the chance to spend half the year in a smelly filthy bus with like fifteen other guys and I'm yours?" Jon made his voice sound light and if you weren't looking at his smile it sounded just like a real joke. Spencer shrugged and smiled back at him gratefully, because at least he was making an effort. It took him two tries to get his smile to stick, but he made the effort too. None of this was Jon's fault, at any rate.

That was part of how it was different for him.

They stood there again for a while, looking at each other uneasily. Spencer thought that maybe this was why people started smoking, for something to do when there wasn't anything else to do or say, for something to pay attention to when you didn't want to pay attention to what you were really doing. Smoking would kill you, of course, but so would moments like these. A little slower than cigarettes, maybe, but then again maybe not.

"Anyway," Jon said, and in the middle of everything Spencer loved him a little for that, for breaking right on through the silence like if he just started talking they'd forget what it was they weren't talking about, "anyway, I thought I might take a little time off too. Just hang out, I don't know. Sleep late. Drink coffee all day. Maybe I'll finally do something with my new place. Like, paint it or decorate it or something."

"Really?" Spencer said.

"Well, buy a bed, anyway. I don't know. Just -- you know. Maybe I'll just chill for a while." He chewed on his lip for a minute and then said, lightly, "Have you thought -- what about you?"

"I don't know," Spencer said. "I was thinking -- I was thinking I might go to school, maybe. I don't know."

"Really?" Jon said, and Spencer nodded. "You're gonna Rivers Cuomo it up, huh? You gonna do the born-again virgin thing too, the whole nine yards?"

"I don't know, man. I think for me that ship has sailed."

Jon laughed, a regular laugh this time, and then said, "You know, they've got a lot of colleges in Chicago."

"Yeah," Spencer said. He really wanted to be looking at the ground or the sky or anything but Jon right now, but he didn't think he should turn away. "I don't know, man," he said again, much more slowly. "I just -- Ryan was saying maybe we've all been, you know, we've all been on top of each other for so long, we haven't had a chance to ever be, you know. Whatever we'd be, if we weren't, I don't know. He said maybe we should, you know, maybe we should figure that out -- "

"Ryan Ross is not the boss of me," Jon said, and his voice swooped out suddenly, louder and rougher than Spencer had expected. Before he could say anything, Jon pulled his voice in and said, lightly, "If I do get a new band, that's totally what I'm calling it." Spencer laughed, more out of respect for the effort than the joke, and Jon said, so low that Spencer's laugh almost buried it, "He's not the boss of you either," and Spencer turned back around and looked out over the edge of the balcony, out at the edge of the world and the dark heavy sky.

"Spencer," Jon said, and he didn't turn around and Jon didn't say anything else.

Finally Spencer said, "That's not -- it's not like that. You don't know him, you don't know either of us at all if you really think that's how it is. He's not -- we're not -- it's not like that."

"No?" Jon said. "Then what are you standing out here in the dark waiting for? Cause we both know you weren't waiting for me."

"You wouldn't understand," Spencer said, and he heard Jon breathe in quick but it was, it was different for them and he wasn't going to pretend like it wasn't. "No offense, but you couldn't."

After a long moment Jon said, "Fair enough," and that was the thing about Jon. He said things like that, and in anybody else's mouth those words would have meant nothing, just the kind of meaningless shit people said when they felt like they had to say something and couldn't think of anything else, but when Jon said them he made them mean something. He sounded like he'd thought about it and decided. It was fair enough, he said, and whatever Jon said he always meant.

"I'm waiting for Ryan," Spencer said. Jon stopped rocking back and forth and stood perfectly still next to him. Spencer kept looking out at the sky. They were far enough away that you couldn't really see the city anymore, just vague blurry lights too low to be stars. "I'm waiting for Ryan, and he's going to come out and tell me, he's going to ask me if we're going to, if we can be. He's going to ask me if it's over and I'm going to say yes."

"Spence --" Jon said, and his voice was rough and loud like before, like something had ripped Spencer's name out of him, something he wasn't expecting. Then he was quiet for a long time, and when he spoke again his voice was smooth and softened with something that sounded a lot like pity. "I don't know -- I don't think it works like that. I mean, it's kind of a unilateral type of thing, you know? You don't really need to ask everybody's permission. It's like a breakup," and he did that weird laugh thing again. "I mean, it is a breakup, you know? We don't all get to vote. It just takes the one, you know?"

"No," Spencer said. He turned back to look at Jon. "No, it takes the two of us. That's how it is with us."

"That's how it's been," Jon said in that smooth soft voice.

"That's how it is," Spencer said. "He, you know, he thinks things up first, sure, that's what he does. But he couldn't -- he says things first but I have to say it, too -- it doesn't count if I don't say yes. If I don't say yes he won't -- he can't do it. That's how it is with us. It's -- he's always asking, you know, whatever he says it's always a question. It's always a question until I say yes."

"Yeah," Jon said, and his voice was still carefully gentle, "but how much of a question is it, how much of a question can it be, really, if he knows he can make you say --"

"No one fucking makes me," Spencer said. He smacked the side of his hand against the railing, so hard that it shook a little. "Do you think all this time I just -- only somebody who never fucking knew me at all would think that he could ... that all this time I never, I didn't --"

"I know you," Jon said, his voice edged with impatience as it cut through Spencer's. Jon's fingers were still gripping the railing tightly as he rocked back suddenly, hard enough that the railing shook again, but he didn't let go.

"Then you know," Spencer said after a minute, quietly. "You know when I say -- it's because I want. When I say yes it's because I want to say it."

"Then why not, now -- why not say no?" Jon said in a breathless rush, and Spencer looked down and then made himself look back up. Jon had taken the whole thing more easily than any of them, and Spencer had thought maybe it was because he'd come in last, because he was hooked in looser, but looking at him now Spencer knew he'd only been smooth on the surface. There was something raw on the inside, and now it bubbled up through Jon's voice and his eyes. It was hope, and Spencer made himself keep looking at Jon to punish himself for not having known it was there in the first place.

"I don't -- I'm not gonna say that," Spencer said. Jon nodded hard and swallowed hard and stood looking down at his hands. Spencer made himself keep looking at him until Jon turned away. Then he let himself look back out at the sky.

They stood there like that for a long time, watching as even the dim faraway lights faded. Finally Jon said, "Fair enough," and Spencer closed his eyes and put his hand over his mouth.

Silence surrounded them like the night, growing darker and heavier and then Jon said, "Anyway," and Spencer would always love him for it. "Anyway," he said again, and then he said, "I don't -- I don't really have anything to say."

"Anyway," Spencer said before the silence could take hold again. Jon smiled a little, not at Spencer but to himself, like maybe he was loving Spencer a little too for breaking right through the silence without a plan or a program or anything but an awkward, lonely word.

Jon turned around and leaned against the balcony and Spencer leaned next to him. The lights were off in the room and Spencer could see their reflection in the glass door in front of them, and beyond that someone moving around inside. "For the record," Jon said, "I knew who I was before I joined, and all the way through, even with all the rest of you on top of me I knew, and I still know, and I think -- I think you knew too, before you joined, and I think you still know, about yourself. I think you know."

"You don't --" Spencer closed his eyes. He didn't want to tell Jon he didn't understand, again, even if it was true. "It's just ..."

"What?" Jon said, and it sounded like he meant it when he said it, like he really didn't know and he wanted to. "Is it really that different for you?"

When Spencer opened his eyes Ryan was standing on the other side of the glass door, his pale skin stark against the night. In the glass Jon and Spencer's reflections looked like ghosts in front of him.

Spencer said, "Yes."

  


_rewind._

"Listen," Ryan said from the foot of Spencer's bed, where he'd been curled up still and silent for so long that Spencer had thought he'd finally fallen asleep. "I want to do this, I think we should ..."

"I know," Spencer said. "You said that like a hundred times already. We will, okay?"

"No, listen," Ryan said. He grabbed Spencer's leg, hard enough that Spencer kicked a little but Ryan didn't let go. "I don't want to do it, though, if we're not -- I only want to do it for real. I don't want a fucking hobby, or a game, I want -- like, everybody in the world says they're going to have a band and maybe they do for like two years and then they go off and become, like accountants or something, and I don't want -- I don't want it if it's going to be like that."

"Maybe we could learn how to play first," Spencer said.

"Don't fucking say it like that, like, like a joke," Ryan said. "Not you," and Spencer looked down at Ryan's hand around his leg, little white circles spreading out around Ryan's fingers. Tomorrow Spencer would have a bruise there and he'd make sure to pull his sweatpants down over it so Ryan wouldn't see it. When they were really little Ryan used to bang him up sometimes, knock him down by accident when they were racing or grab him too hard when they were wrestling so that Spencer ended up scraped or bruised. Once after Spencer had fallen off his skateboard in the driveway his mother had shaken her head in a way Spencer didn't like while she poured peroxide over his knee. It stung and white bubbles sizzled up over his skin and his mom said, "If Ryan can't be careful then you're not going to be able to play with him anymore."

"He doesn't mean it," Spencer had said, "he doesn't even know and besides, it's not just me, he hurts himself too and he doesn't mean it, he just doesn't -- he doesn't know how to be careful." His knee was stinging really badly and he started to cry and his mother looked at him for a minute and then she shushed him and said,

"Well, you'll just have to be careful for him."

Spencer got older and he didn't go to his mom every time he got hurt and besides, he didn't really get hurt that much anymore. He was still careful, though, and so he said, "We could just see if we like it, before we make it a big deal. We could see if we're any good --"

Ryan shook his head. "That's not how it works -- we'll only be good if we make it a big deal, and I only want it if we're good. I only want to do it if we make it a big deal, I only want to do it if we make it everything." His fingers dug harder into Spencer's leg and he said, "We can do it, can't we? We'll have a band and we'll be good and it'll be everything, our whole lives, everything -- "

"Sure," Spencer said. "Whatever you say --"and Ryan shook his head again.

"No," he said. "No, I can't just say it -- you have to say it. It doesn't count unless you say it."

"Count for what?"

"Count for me," Ryan said. "It isn't real until you say it." He looked up at Spencer from the foot of the bed, still clutching him like he'd be swept away somehow if he let go for even a second. Spencer thought there were probably millions of kids in the world who were careful and easy and had hobbies and played games and didn't stay up all night talking about crazy wild ideas and whose best friends woke up in the morning with their skin unmarked and who didn't need anybody else to make them real.

Spencer didn't know how they could stand it.

"We're gonna do it, aren't we?" Ryan said, his eyes shining in the dark, his face tilted up and Spencer thought that this was all he ever wanted for his entire life, to listen to Ryan ask him a thousand questions like that, a million, and to always answer the same thing. "Spencer?" Ryan said. "Spencer, tell me," and this was all Spencer was going to want for his entire life, he knew it, all he was ever going to want was to tell Ryan one thing.

Spencer said, "Yes."


End file.
